The old man says he thinks he might not live long enough to see Leinster win the European Cup again. I tell him I’m only 46 years old and I’m storting to feel the same way.“The best team won on the day. That’s what I think.”Yeah, no, this nugget of wisdom comes from Bernie, the old man’s new squeeze, who he insisted on bringing to Bilbao and who ended up asking stupid questions for the entire match slash weekend.I give her a filthy and I go, “If your views on rugby were written across Gisele Bündchen’s naked flesh, I’d tell her to put some clothes on.”The old man goes, “Ross!” because he’s – for some reason – smitten by her and we’re in the middle of the security screening area of Bilbao airport. I walk through the metal detector and I can still hear her behind me, talking S, H, 1, T. “I’m just saying,” she’s telling my old man, “if they want to win, they’ll just have to do better playing than the other team. It’s as simple as that.”You can write all the letters to the Editor that you want, I’ve never said a word about Bray that wasn’t a hundred per cent justified.I grab my sunnies from the tray and put them back on my head. JP, Christian, Fionn and Oisinn are waiting for me on the other side.Bernie takes a pair of sunnies off the display and – after looking over both shoulders – drops them into her hand luggageOisinn’s like, “You okay, Dude?” And I’m there, “Yeah, no, I’m suddenly thinking about having to face Sorcha when I get home.”“In terms of?”“In terms of she didn’t want me going to the match. She had some dinner arranged for our twenty-first wedding anniversary.”“Twenty-first? Is that a thing?”“Thank, you, Oisinn! People would want to cop on to themselves.”“So, what, you just went anyway?”“She locked him in the gaff,” JP goes, “so he got out of the bedroom window and climbed down the trellis.”I’m there, “Nobody can say I haven’t put my body on the line for this Leinster team.”The goys all laugh. There’s no one like me, in fairness.Christian goes, “Will she let you back in?”I’m there, “Who knows? She’s been texting me for two days solid, but I didn’t read any of them. Didn’t want them casting a shadow over my weekend.”Fionn’s like, “What will you do?”I’m there, “The usual. I’ll check into Fitzpatrick’s for a few days until she comes to her, hopefully, senses.”We’re, like, mooching around in Duty Free and I can hear her voice again. She’s going, “The other team were very good jumping high in the air, weren’t they?”I’m like, “Focking Rassie Erasmus there, huh?” and the goys all laugh, in fairness to them.And that’s when I see something that quite literally takes my breath away? Bernie takes a pair of sunnies off the display and – after looking over both shoulders – drops them into her hand luggage.I’m like, “What the fock? Did you goys see that?”Fionn is like, “Look, I didn’t want to say anything, Ross, but about three minutes ago, I saw her do the same with 400 cigarettes.”I’m like, “What? Are you serious right now?”The five of us stand there, staring at her. She’s going, “The Leinster fellas have to become better at throwing the ball and catching it.”And of course the old man is hanging on her every word.He’s like, “I had no idea your knowledge of the beautiful game ran so deep, Bernie.”Oisinn goes, “She’s not going to pay for that bottle of Victoria Beckham 21:50 Reverie in her hand, is she?”And – yeah, no – five seconds later, after looking around her, she drops it into her hand luggage with the sunnies and the 400 Israel Daggs.Bernie goes, “Do you know what, Charles, I’m not in the humour for shopping. Let’s go to the gate and I’ll pretend to faint so that we can board before everybody else.”He’s like, “Righty-o, Dorling.”Christian’s there, “Wait a minute – won’t the alorm go off when she passes the–”Suddenly, it’s like, BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!Bernie literally freezes. Suddenly, there’s, like, security gords swarming around them. I’m thinking, yeah, no, let’s see you talk your way out of this one.They decide to give the old man the benefit of the doubt, presumably based on their lack of knowledge of his history of criminalityThe old man goes, “What in the name of Hades is going on?”And Bernie’s like, “I think it’s you, Charlie, what set it off,” and then she turns to the security dudes and in a half-Spanish, half-English accent, goes, “I theenk eet was my fedda what set it off.”“Set if off?” the old man goes – all eyes suddenly on him. “How on earth did I set it off?”And she’s there, “You put a watch in your pocket.”At this point, my jaw is on the floor.The old man’s like, “I what?”She goes, “You put a watch in your pocket – a watch for a lady.”The old man taps his jacket pockets, going, “I’m not so old that I can’t remember if I–” and then he’s like, “Good Lord!” He reaches into his pocket and he pulls out – yeah, no – a watch. It’s worth a few quid as well.Bernie goes, “I saw you do it. I just presumed it was a surprise for me – a lovely way to round off a romantic weekend.”The security dudes are, like, glowering at the old man.“Yes!” he eventually goes. “Yes, that’s it! I was planning to pay for it, chaps! I think I have a touch of the famous brain fog! Age-related, of course!”The security dudes talk among themselves in the local hokey-cokey, obviously trying to decide whether he was thieving the thing or whether it was an actual mistake.In the end, they decide to give him the benefit of the doubt, presumably based on his age and their lack of knowledge of his history of criminality.One of them goes, “You pay for this now – yes?” And the old man’s like, “Quite right! I’ll pay! Although I genuinely have no memory ... Bernie, are you coming?”Of course, she doesn’t want to walk back through the scanner again. So she goes, “No, Charlie, I’ll head for the gate. I’ll tell them I’m hyperglycaemic. Thanks for the watch. I’ll see you on the plane.”